


Colors

by missippi_twists



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Language, I have no idea, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Violence, Modern AU, Recreational Drug Use, i guess, please enjoy, what else do i tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-26 09:05:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4998892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missippi_twists/pseuds/missippi_twists
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Can you guess my favourite colour?”<br/>Dwalin turned to stare at the occupant on his bedroom floor, an eyebrow slowly inching up.<br/>“Have you been eating one of Bilbo’s ‘mushrooms’ again?”<br/>“Answer the question,” Thorin pressed half-heartedly.<br/>He was blue, and he was covered in grey, pulled apart at the seams. (song fic)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colors

 

"Bullshit," Dwalin cursed under his breath, scowling at the woman with a smile plastered on her face as the talk show started. He switched the TV off before storming into his room and grabbed his wallet and keys.

"Where are you going?"

"None of your business," came the rough growl of a reply. 

Balin looked up at his imposing presence of a brother but still stood outside his room, even as Dwalin stalked closer. He let out a sigh as Dwalin once again shoved him aside, making his way out.

"You could do better, laddie."

"Tell that to someone who actually gives a shit." And the door was shut in his face like every attempt of Balin trying to reach out for his brother.

 

“Thunder clouds with a chance of heavy downpour,” Bilbo commented snidely at Dwalin, who was getting himself comfortable on his floor.

“Very funny, Baggins, now pass me the dope before I kick your cat.”

A sharp inhale of breath was heard from the brunette as he dropped the baggie on Dwalin’s lap. “You will do no such thing, Mr Fundinson. Or at least, if you still treasure your foot.”

Said cat turned his head towards the two, pale eyes flashing malice at the sound of a threat.

Dwaling tapped into his vein, loaded the syringe and plunged the needle in. He was suddenly glad he was sitting down, his teeth rattling as the high kicked in. He rubbed his face before passing the syringe back to Bilbo, who promptly disposed the needle into a tin box.

“This is strong.”

“Nothing but the best from Nori. Also, you owe me 50 bucks.” 

Dwalin made a non-committed noise from the back of his throat, not moving away even as Smeagol started hissing at him.

“You should do something about this demon.”

“But he loves me,” Bilbo cooed, proceeding to carry his cat away from Dwalin. The touch of fingers startled the white ball of frazzled cat nerves and Smeagol switched targets, sinking teeth and claws into Bilbo’s outstretched arms.

Dwalin dissolved into a fit of mirth as he watched with a buzz of euphoria floating around him, Bilbo’s futile attempts to dislodge his pet without flinging it across his dorm room.   

 

* * *

 

 

A crowd had gathered at the yard, loud hollers and cheers coming from them.

A mohawk’d head turned and look past his massive shoulders, trying to catch a glimpse at the fight before the teachers came and broke it up.

“The fuck are they doing at 8 am, picking a fight.”

Bilbo’s exasperated sigh could be heard, along with the eye roll he was throwing at the situation.

“What do you expect from Smaug, that bastard and his lackeys have yet to acquire a sense of timing.”

The cheering roared into a crescendo as Dwalin caught a glimpse of a scrawny kid throwing a jockey a foot taller than him into the ground like he was a sack of potatoes, raining his fists on his body. If Dwalin was slowly turning red above the collar and averting his eyes quickly from the scene, it wasn’t because of the way how the beanpole’s white shirt rode up to reveal the small of his back, a sheen of sweat forming on his fair skin.

 

“Who was that, the one throwing Bolg off his shoulder?”

Nori raised a brow, his green eyes shifting to something mischievous as he chewed on his lunch.

“Pretty slick for a guy like him, right?” he replied, a smirk forming on his lips. Dwalin scowled, passing him a 10 that he still owed the prick from his previous round.

“Name,” he insisted. Nori plucked the bill off the table and made a show of smelling the cash.

“Thorin Oakenshield, he’s a bit of a lone wolf, likes to isolate himself. People call him a crack head but what I got is that he takes prescription pills for some sort of mental issue. He’s got a cocktail of them, in between his ears, that sod. Wouldn’t blame him for preferring his own company.”

“What has Smaug have to do with him then?”

Nori finished his food before holding Dwalin’s gaze with a seriousness that was rarely seen.

“The things he usually beats snot nosed brats like him in the school toilets for.”

“Here’s your chance Dwalin. Damsel in distress, you’re the knight in shining, sweaty armour. Save your prince from the evil, fire breathing drake.” Bilbo chimed, breaking the tense atmosphere with his theatrics. Dwalin rolled his eyes and punched the brunette in the shoulder.

The very air of the lunch hall seemed to crackle with an unexplained static, and it was moments before Bofur slammed one of the doors open, eyes scanning wildly for the trio seating near the corner, mismatched people who doesn’t seemed like they belonged but yet again, defied the standards of society.

Dwalin was already up, hoisting Bilbo up just before he could grab a bite of his lunch. Nori rubbed his hands together in glee, the bloodthirsty maniac in him excited for the adrenaline rush. They crossed the hall in long strides, a silence falling over the student body.

“Second floor, Azog’s there. Bloody Bolg decided to scream bloody murder just because his nose got broken-“

“I thought it stayed broken after Dwalin’s round with him.” Everyone else threw a pointed look at Bilbo as their shortest friend simply shrugged, breaking into a jog just to keep up with their long strides.

“Yea well, whatever the case is, it’s 5 against one; 6 if you take account of that meat mammoth.”

“Let’s do some simple addition here, there’s Dwalin, Nori, you, me and Mr James Dean over there, I say they’re out numbered.”

Everything seemed to slow down, like those scenes in the Matrix, only they were just average college boys and not characters of a sci-fi film. Dwalin took account of Thorin on the linoleum tiles, clutching at his bloodied nose and his ruined white shirt.

“Dwalin you oaf, pick someone and pound their thick skulls in,” Bilbo cried out with a huff as he slammed unnamed lackey number 1’s face onto the sink. Azog was about to bring down his giant fist into Thorin’s face again when Dwalin charged, using his momentum and weight to throw the asshat off his feet.

It was a melee of flesh and sharp elbows, the occasional head butts and low kicks. They weren’t seasoned warriors, but Dwalin and the rest knew how to punch or ten, how shoving your wrist up someone’s nose was better than using knuckles. It felt like hours but really, the fight lasted a couple of minutes before Nori assessed the damage and gave a sharp whistle. Bofur scampered for his fallen aviator hat, that sentimental fool, Bilbo hastily wiping his hands on someone else’s shirt and Dwalin just grabbed Thorin and they bolted out the door.

Dwalin didn’t get far before he was slammed against the wall.

“What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?”

“Calm down there, laddie, we were just saving your ass.” Bofur drawled, wiping a trickle of blood from his split lip with his shirt sleeve.

Thorin turned his heard sharply and threw a fierce glare at Bofur, shutting him up.

“I don’t even know you,” his voice growled, teeth bared in a scowl.

“If Smaug’s got you up to your god damned throat, Oakenshield, I’m pretty sure you’ll know us like the back of your hand pretty soon,” Bilbo replied with a demeanour icy enough to freeze hell over, all the time looking like a spring daisy with a small smile on his face.

The grip around Dwalin’s shirt eased, but still didn’t let go. Dwalin could see the trail of sweat beading from his hairline, sliding from his temple, down his jawline and swallowed hard. Nori’s head snapped at attention to their left, where they had come from.

“Boys, sorry to cut our tea party short but those trolls are getting up.”

“Enough man handling time to go,” Bilbo ushered as Dwalin focused on disentangling himself from Thorin’s hands. By the time Tom (or was it Bert) had burst out from the restroom door, Dwalin and the rest were already gone.

 

Dori’s shouts were deafening, if not downright torturous to Nori’s ears as he felt a migraine throb to life.  He had always cited his oldest brother for the reason why his uncle Oin was having hearing problems from one ear, but it was self-preservation that kept him from voicing his opinion out.

“You might not notice, but we have a guest, dear brother,” he drawled, holding an ice pack under a cheek bone, a nasty bruise blooming where unnamed oaf number 2 had socked him.

That stopped Dori on his verbal tracks and he turned around, eyes summing up their newest addition and instantly he was going over Thorin’s injuries like a mother hen.

That got a chuckle out from Nori as he threw a “Told you we’d be fine” look towards Dwalin, who was on the other side of the room, arms folded and jaw clenched.

“Take off your shirt,” Dori demanded, his sharp eyes catching on the bruises peeking out from the hem of the ruined shirt.

“I’ll be fine,” Thorin tried to argue, then winced in pain as Dori jabbed a finger around his ribs where they were starting to throb. He cocked a brow and gave an authoritative look.

“Shirt, off. Now.” And this time Thorin didn’t argue.

The bruise was impressive, to say the least. Dwalin ‘s arms came unfolded, taking in the sight of bluish purple skin centering the right side of Thorin’s ribs. Bofur gave a low whistle and Bilbo was already by Thorin’s side, his training from working part time at Oin’s clinic kicking in.

“What the hell happened here?” Dori raised his voice, turning to Bofur who shrugged and feigned ignorance, Nori who suddenly found part of the ceiling fascinating, before directing his leveled gaze at Dwalin. Beefy as he was, Dwalin couldn’t lie to save his life.

“Azog happened,” came the dumb reply.

 

* * *

 

 

“Do you know how to punch?”

“Do you have IQ higher than a single organism?” Thorin retorted, a small smirk forming on his lips. Dwalin narrowed his eyes but he couldn’t stop his lips from quirking upwards.  It had been a few weeks after the run in with Azog, and Smaug had given Dwalin and his friends some space. But still, Dwalin practically had his hackles raised whenever they walked past any of Smaug’s boys. This was what brought Thorin to Dwalin’s place, not that it was insinuating anything else.

“Dwalin, program,” Bilbo stage whispered, a smug expression forming as Dwalin threw him an irritated look.

“Father Christmas could care with the program, Bilbo. But back to the point, your punches are decent but your stance is all wrong. You stand with your feet too close,” Dwalin moved behind Thorin, running a tongue through his lips as he nudged his thighs further apart with his knee. Bilbo let loose a snicker.

“You should stand with your legs about a shoulder’s width apart so your gravity is more centered. This way you can stop making out with the floor.”

“And start making out with you.”

“Who invited you again?”

“Nobody, I invited myself.”

Fast and agile Bilbo was, he stood no chance at the shoe Dwalin flung towards him.

And that’s when he first heard it, a soft, deep laugh coming from neither him nor his victim. Dwalin felt something underneath his pectorals clench. Warmth crept up behind his ears, a steady blush colouring his cheeks as he found the source of the laughter. Thorin’s eyes were crinkled at the edges and for the first time in all the weeks that they’ve hung out with their dysfunctional group where he looked at ease, and _happy_.

“Was that, Thorin, was that your first laugh?” Bilbo asked incredulously, a hand on his chest as he mocked surprise.

“Fuck you,” Thorin cursed, still laughing. Bilbo put his arms around him and squeezed, making cooing noises as he tried to coerce more from the broody teen.

And to Dwalin, it was like music to his ears.

 

“So, how come you’re always by yourself?” Bofur popped the question innocently enough. They were in various positions, sprawled all over Dwalin’s bedroom after the bong was passed around a couple times.

Thorin coughed a little as he exhaled, still trying to get the hang of it.

“I only seek the company of the people I can call friends,” Thorin shrugged, carding his fingers through his hair.

“Fair enough, Bilbo only eats with people whom he trusts won’t poison his food so you’re not the only sore thumb sticking out.”

“I’ll have you know, Lobelia really did dump laxatives on my food when we were kids, that rotten wrench.”

“Sure, Bilbo,” Nori commented sarcastically, taking an extra-long drag from the pipe.

“You know, it’s not your fault Smaug picks on you. It’s just the way some of us were brought up. We can’t help the way we are, they can’t help having such a shit upbringing.” The room eased into a comfortable silence as they turned over Bofur’s words like the pages of a book.

“Why do you think muscle head over here looks like muscles on steroids?” Nori added.

Blue eyes met grey and a look of revelation dawned on Thorin as he looked at Dwalin in a new light. Dwalin would swear that the synchronized motion of their Adam’s apples bobbing up and down was a trick of his eyes and the high he was going through.

 

“Can you guess my favorite color?”

Dwalin turned to stare at the occupant on his bedroom floor, an eyebrow slowly inching up.

“Have you been eating one of Bilbo’s ‘mushrooms’ again?”

“Answer the question,” Thorin pressed half-heartedly, fishing his pockets for his prescription bottle. It was still half full. Dwalin’s mind began to wonder idly if Thorin was still taking his pills regularly.

He thought of Thorin’s dark hair, like spilled ink and the color of the skies at their darkest hours.

“Black?”

That earned a chuckle coming from the vicinity of the bottom of Dwalin’s bed.

“You brick, guess again.”

Dwalin’s thoughts meandered to the white fitted shirts he would sometimes wear and how they clung to Thorin’s lean frame when the days got a little too warm.

“Is it white?”

An amused huff, this time slightly closer. Dwalin shuffled towards his grey wall as his mattress dipped with the weight of a new addition. His eyelids fluttered close and he was glad that the rest of them had decided to call it a night earlier than usual. Thorin had stayed because he was too baked to get his legs working properly and Dwalin didn’t protest when they suggested Thorin stayed a little while longer.

When he opened them again he found himself staring at the bluest eyes he has ever seen. Those ridiculously blue eyes and impossibly sharp nose that made his face a little awkward, like he hadn’t exactly grown into it yet.

“You really are terrible at this, Fundinson.” Thorin mocked, his voice soft and low, almost like a purr.

“Well then, indulge me if I’m wrong again, Oakenshield,” Dwalin started, brushing fingers hesitantly against Thorin’s neck. He could feel the soft pulse under the skin, feel Thorin reach up to his touch so Dwalin grew bolder and pulled them close until their noses bumped against each other.

“Is it the color blue?”

“Took you long enough,” Thorin murmured, their lips close but not quite touching. And Dwalin was satisfied with that.

 

* * *

 

 

Days turned into weeks, weeks blurred in a state of foggy, euphoric high by Thorin’s side, the contents of his prescription pills unchanging.

They were alone now, after Dwalin chased everyone out when Bofur was close to painting his walls with the color of his puke. They were all a little too buzzed from the alcohol and dope coursing through their veins, shooting up a little more than usual.

“Don’t mind if I smoke,” Thorin asked, though it was more of a statement than a question. Dwalin went over to his windows and opened them up.

“Since when do you care if I’ll let you do whatever you want or not.” And Thorin answered with a majestically rude gesture. Dwalin decided to take up Thorin’s offer of a stick, lit it up and took a long drag, mentally rehearsing his speech.

“They offered me a job.”

He dropped the bomb on Thorin’s lap. Everything in the room seemed to go still; even the grey of the smoke seemed to dissipate to nothing. There was a moment of silence, broken by the sound of Thorin’s knuckles popping.

“When do you start?” Mechanical words churned from the mouth of the noirette sitting on Dwalin’s bed, his free fist clenched so tight it looked like it hurt.

Dwalin tried to calm the thundering going on inside his ribs. He knew he couldn’t blame Thorin for his episodes but sometimes he could do without it because it would make everything so god damned _easier._

“I haven’t accepted their offer yet.”

“But you haven’t exactly turned them down, did you?” Thorin’s words stung like an accusation. Dwalin couldn’t help the small frown forming between his brows, crushing the cig butt on an ash tray.

“Thorin-“

“But you _hate_ your mother. Why would you even consider working under her and her blasted company if all she’s going to do is make you wash her dirty laundry?!”

Dwalin stood, crossing over the room to calm his friend down but it only served to rile Thorin up. There was a certain madness burning behind those blue, blue eyes as he stood too, flinging his cigarette out the window with unexpected accuracy.

“You don’t understand Thorin, this is family and I’m obliged to carry on my duties.”

“I don’t _understand_?” Thorin reeled, his words dripped with malice. A storm was brewing in between his brows and they were downcast.

“No, I didn’t mean that. You- you know what I mean Thorin it was just a slip of the tongue.”

“Well fuck you, Fundinson! How the hell am I supposed to know what you mean when you keep sending mixed messages all the bloody time?!”

That took Dwalin by surprise. His mouth hung open in a pink ‘o’ before whatever composure he had snapped like a twig.

“ME?!” He very nearly roared. “Well if you may so oblige, oh high and mighty Oakenshield , what sort of preposterous mixed signals was I sending and to whom?!”

“I don’t have fucking time to deal with your shit, Dwalin. I’m out.”

“Thorin, wait.”

And it was more of reflex really, the hand that shot out to grab Thorin’s wrist. And like the gears of a bigger reaction, Thorin spun around like a feral animal and slammed Dwalin against the wall.

“Don’t you _ever_ , lay your hand on me. Don’t speak to me of loyalty when the second I turn my back, you go on shagging the first twink you lay your eyes on!”

He shoved Dwalin once again for good measure before relinquishing his grip and left.

Dwalin’s legs folded underneath him and he laid in a limp mess.

“Fuck.” A fist thumped on the floor.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, _FUCK_.” Each monosyllable punctuated by the driving intensity of Dwalin’s fist upon his floor.

 

_It was a couple weeks back, maybe 3, Dwalin wasn’t good with keeping track of dates._

_He had left his house with his voice gruff and raw from shouting at Balin,_ again _, about meaningless future plans, upcoming graduation and his not so decent plethora of friends. Its not that he was mad at Balin, his older brother had practically raised him when their father overdosed and their mother left to start herself a new, better life; its the fact that Balin was a stick in the mud and sometimes failed to see things from Dwalin’s perspective. And Dwalin, well Dwalin wasn’t exactly the saint of their family._

_He had landed himself at some bar, more like a hole in the wall, but the drinks were cheap and he downed shot after shot to blur the world away._

_And that’s when he approached, the brunette who only hung out at libraries, never hanging out much with his other, older brother, always hiding behind books and hand knitted scarves wrapped around his neck when fall came around._

_“What do you want?” Dwalin asked crudely, shooting the smaller guy an irritated look. He visibly shrunk in his seat, top of his scarf- it was a rich brown, complementing his hair- covering his nose._

_“Can I buy you a drink?” He timidly asked, pushing his glasses a little higher up his nose bridge. Dwalin all but nearly chuckled, the image of a mousy boy trying to pick up a hulk of a college student in a dingy bar with bad lighting and probably unwashed glasses covered with a film of grime seemed amusing to him._

_“Go back home Ori, you’ll break your brothers’ heart if they saw you here.”_

_“Nori was the one who brought me here in the first place,” Ori indignantly sniffed, emptying what was left in his glass._

_They stumbled in the dark of Ori’s room after Dwalin eased up and let Ori buy him a drink (or 10, he lost count after the lights started strobing). It was less than sophisticated, all wet kisses and clumsy movement and small squeaky noises from Ori when Dwalin got a little too rough. Dwalin was working on getting his jeans off his legs with the mistake of not taking his shoes off first and ended up tripping, pulling Ori down with him. They mercilessly landed on the bed, Dwalin’s massive bulk driving the air out of a crushed Ori’s lungs with a small ‘_ oof’.

_It didn’t stop the progress of whatever was happening between the two though. The delicious moan that Ori emitted when Dwalin decided to grind their hips together nearly drove him mad. He was so hard it nearly hurt but in that fleeting sense of logic and rationality, Dwalin could sense a dull throbbing ache sitting in between his chest._

_“Dwalin-“ Ori started but was cut off when Dwalin pressed their lips together again, fingers stroking at hip bones underneath his shirt. Ori decided to put his foot down and grabbed at Dwalin’s wrists with unexpected strength._

_“Dwalin, would you just listen,” Ori paused, catching his breath, his cheeks a flushed pink._

_“We don’t have to do this. I don’t want to do this anymore than you want.”_

_Dwalin felt his insides slowly turn cold, Ori’s words providing him the clarity he needed to get the cotton around his mind cleared. He mumbled something incomprehensible into the crook of Ori’s shoulder._

_“What’s that?”_

_“I’m sorry, Ori. I really am.”_

_“You can take your apology and shove it up your arse,” Ori rebutted lightly. He tilted Dwalin’s chin so that their eyes met, bleary grey ones into earnest brown orbs shining bright with unshed tears._

_“Thorin needs you more than I do, we both know that.” Brave as Ori tried to sound, it still didn’t stop the hitch in his voice. Dwalin registered the wetness first before he heard the soft hiccupping sobs and trembling frame as Ori clenched at his shoulders, curling in on himself._

_“I wish I could make it up to you.”_

_“You can start by staying a while longer.” And they both were lulled to sleep by Ori’s sniffs and Dwalin stroking soothing circles onto the back of the smaller teen’s neck with his thumb._

_“Can someone enlighten me, what the fuck is going on in here?” Nori had his arms folded to stop himself from throwing a punch in the direction of his friend’s face or balls, whatever that shelled maximum damage._

_“This isn’t what it looks like,” Dwalin started, hastily getting up and disentangling himself from the tangle of limbs and clothes. Nori arched an eyebrow and took a step forward, seething with rage._

_“You tell me, Fundinson. This room smells like alcohol, you look like shit and you’re in bed, with my_ brother _.”_

_“Nori, I can explain,” Ori pleaded, voice still heavy with sleep._

_“You stay out of this-“ The middle Ri brother only had to take one look upon his brother, taking in his uncharacteristically_ disheveled _state -and were those eyes puffy from tears? -before he swung at Dwalin’s eye._

* * *

 

Thorin tugged his coat around him tighter, trying to shake the uneasiness that was building up around his gut that he was being trailed. He reached for his pocket to grab his bottle, rattled a couple out and was about to pop them in his mouth when an inconsiderate cyclist knocked them straight out of his hands.

His blue pills spilled all over the pavement, steady drizzle of rain dissuading him from retrieving whatever was salvageable from the accident. In a burst of anger, Thorin cursed and kicked at the ground, the cad on wheels already speeding off to Thorin hoped was a ditch. He sought shelter from the overhang of a bakery, its warm interior lighting providing a sliver of warmth to Thorin’s already bleary day. He used his hand to shield the lighter from forces of nature and lit a cigarette, taking a long drag and exhaling it in a quick breath.

“Well if it isn’t Oakenshield. Where’s your boyfriend?”

Thorin snarled and ignored the group of rowdy jocks, throwing his cigarette on the cement before walking away.

“Come on Thorin, we’re just playing, don’t be offended.”

“Well maybe the playground would be more suited for your childish antics, dickhead.” Thorin muttered the last word under his breath, his footsteps quickening.

He took a sharp corner, not really taking heed where he was going, more intent on shaking the probably wasted youths away when for the second time that evening, he nearly collided into someone.

“In a rush, Oakenshield?” The deep voice rumbled, a poor attempt of politeness underlying with unadulterated mockery. Thorin stopped dead his tracks, swallowing hard at the presence before him. Dark eyes seemed to take on a reptilian quality as they seized Thorin from head to toe.

“Why don’t you stay a little while longer,” Smaug suggested, the hand on Thorin’s back shoving him into a deserted alleyway.

“I must thank you for your kind invitation, but I’m afraid I have other pressing matters to attend to,” Throrin growled, trying to push past Smaug but found his only way of escape barricaded by former group of tipsy lackeys.

“Oh, no no, god no. I insist, Oakenshield.”

Thorin pulled back, and then landed a solid uppercut on Smaug’s jaw that had him floored.

He broke for it, trying to shoot through the wall of muscle and hot blooded youths but one scrawny teen could only fight off so many before Smaug curled his fist around Thorin’s hair and yanked.

“It is quite rude, to deny the goodwill of one’s host Thorin. Let me show you how to be a good guest, shall we?” Smaug’s low threat was the last thing that Thorin heard before a loud crack sounded in between his ears.

A burst of mind numbing pain, and Thoin’s world went black.

 

The thundering knocks raining upon his door was what stirred him from his sleep.

“Laddie, open this door.”

On the other side of the door, Dwalin stirred from the sleep he hadn’t known he had slipped into, muttering a few choice curses under his breath.

“What is it you want?” The younger Fundinson asked gruffly.

“There’s a reason why I pay your phone bills, Dwalin, so you can actually pick that god damned device once in a while. It’s Thorin-“

Said mobile device rang to life again and Dwalin was half way across his room before it could ring twice and pressed the ‘answer’ button as he brought it to his ear.

“-FUCKING FUNDINSON WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!”

“Bilbo?”

“You bet your still intact yam bags I am. Listen, I’m at the hospital-“

“Hospital? What’re you doing there? Is everything okay-“

“I was just getting to that, you brick. It’s about Thorin, he’s in pretty bad shape-“

“I’m coming over.”

“Would you stop interrupting-“

Dwalin hung up before his shorter friend could go off a hissy fit and grabbed his jacket.

“I’ll give you a ride to the hospital, road’s in no condition for you to ride your bike.”

“You know about Thorin?”

“Technically you would have known sooner if you’d listen to my words once in a while,” he gripped, a hair’s breath away from rolling his eyes at his brother.

“Whatever,” Dwalin mumbled, his guts twisting into knots. He couldn’t help but feel guilty and responsible that Thorin had ended up in a bed that wasn’t his own and for even Balin to catch wind of the news, it was pretty serious indeed.

“Nothing much we can do now, just hope for the best,” Balin commented, as if reading his brother’s mind.

 

Despite fore warnings and threatening glares from medical personnel, Dwalin broke into a run and nearly all but sprinted as he took a sharp left.

He almost collided with an emerging Bilbo, who spooked and yelped, not expecting to see a flushed and sweaty 6’ 2 man standing in his way.

Dwalin merely pushed his friend aside gently, his steps slowing as he entered the hospital room. It was slightly cold, the smell of disinfectant permeating his olfactory senses. A constantly beeping monitor, wires, an IV drip all connected to the person sleeping and tucked neatly in between crisp white sheets.

Dwalin took in the sight of Thorin and tried to fight off the bile rising up his throat from the result of frazzled nerves and a borderline anxiety attack. Though there was a bandage wrapped around the noirette’s forehead, a nasty black eye, a decently stitched wound from the top of his lip, Thorin looked like he had gotten away pretty intact.

“What happened to him?” Dwalin asked, his voice barely above a whisper so as to not rouse his friend.

“Ran into Smaug, they knocked him straight into a concussion but trust me, there are worse cases out there. Some guy found Thorin before he bled out on the pavements. They’re gunna keep him for a while to observe him but his vitals are stable.”

Dwalin gave Bilbo’s shoulder a firm squeeze, his thanks eloquent in the look he gave Bilbo.

“Well I have to get going, they don’t allow too many people in the cubicles anyway. Give him a kiss on the lips for me when he wakes, and don’t forget to text too, Fundinson.”

Dwalin chuckled and gave Bilbo a playful nudge. “Bugger off, Baggins, and you can bet on the kiss, though not so much on the text.”

Bilbo graciously flipped him the bird before strolling off.

He settled himself as quietly as he could into the bedside chair which, was a feat on its own considering how much it creaked under the weight it was put under. Only then, did Dwalin release the breath he had unknowingly been holding, up close, next to Thorin.

Dwalin took up his hand, interwove their fingers together and pressed a small kiss onto Thorin’s wrist, right where the steady beat of his pulse beeped in time with the monitor.

 

“Am I dead?” came the croaky whisper above him.

Dwalin snapped awake, his grip around Thorin tightening a fraction.

“That’d depend if you would like to be in heaven or hell.”

It was nearly dawn, a few hours since Dwalin had taken residence beside his sleeping friend. The sun had yet to break over the horizon and a pregnant silence fell between the two.

A soft groan escaped from Thorin’s lips, his eyes slipping shut momentarily.

“Pretty sure heaven won’t hurt like this, and if you’re here I’m _definitely_ not in the presence of our Maker,” Thorin joked, earning a few sarcastic huffs from the man sitting beside him.

“So where do you reckon you ended up then, Oakenshield?”

Thorin seemed to give the question some meaningful thought.

“Doesn’t matter,” Thorin concluded, his shoulders giving a feeble shrug.

“Thorin, I’m-“

“It’s not your fault. He, Ori, came by earlier. He told me everything.”

Blue eyes met grey again, their unspoken words shared with a look.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” Dwalin choked, his voice thick with the tears he was supressing. Thorin gave a shaky exhale and offered a watery smile of his own.

“You didn’t think you’d get rid of me so easily did you?”

 Dwalin shook his head, reaching a hand out to cup Thorin’s face.

“Bilbo said to give you a kiss when you woke.”

The corner of Thorin’s lip quirked upwards before he leaned over to press their lips together.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while. Originally this was supposed to have a more tragic ending but I couldn't bare to write it down. Song is Colors by Halsey, please go listen to her, she's awesome. Thank you for reading all the way til the end, if you're still reading this I must say I'm very grateful, from the bottom of my heart. What was planned to be about 2k words somehow went a little out of hand. Hope you enjoyed this one shot and have a nice day :)


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